


Cabin Fever

by lettersbyelise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, (in)conveniently timed snowstorms, (kinda), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Banter, Bottom Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Getting Together, H/D Owlpost Holiday Fest, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Hung Draco Malfoy, Hung Harry Potter, M/M, Mystery, POV Harry Potter, Snowed In, Switching, Top Draco Malfoy, apocalypse theories, awkward confessions, everyone is hung, it's fanfiction okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersbyelise/pseuds/lettersbyelise
Summary: When Harry Potter finds himself trapped in a snowed-in cabin with Auror partner Draco Malfoy, he doesn't expect his predicament to help him solve the case they are working on... or to fulfill the secret fantasy he harbours for Draco.





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semperfiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/gifts).



> Dear [semperfiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/pseuds/semperfiona), your _trapped together by a sudden snowstorm or avalanche_ prompt wasn't supposed to turn into an 8K words fic, but it did, and I'm not really sorry :D This was incredibly fun to write, and I hope this hits many of your likes <3  
> A big thank you to M and E for the thorough beta and fun ~~sex ideas~~ suggestions.

Harry’s booted foot sank in a frozen puddle, and he cursed under his breath. The cold was starting to seep through the stitching of the leather _—dragonhide, my arse—_ and he cast a quick _Impervius_ charm.

Again.

It was the third time today.

And it was all Malfoy’s fault.

He threw his Auror partner a mutinous glare. The git was already far ahead of him. He hadn’t even noticed Harry had stopped. Rather, he _pretended_ he hadn’t noticed. He was walking at his usual brisk, elegant pace, seemingly unhampered by the snow and the irregular terrain, his chin held high like he owned the place. The place being the mountainous slopes of Ben Macdui, in the Cairngorms National Park, currently covered in feet of snow and very much _not_ owned by Malfoy.

Although Harry couldn’t be sure. The Malfoys did own an insane amount of British land.

He managed to extricate his foot from the puddle and looked down at it. The seams of his boot were coming apart. _That’ll teach me to buy stuff via owl post,_ he thought angrily.

“Shall we move, Potter? Or did you plan to set camp here for the night?” Malfoy’s haughty drawl resounded yards ahead. He had stopped and turned to scowl at Harry, hands on his hips, imperious.

 _Murderous glare, murderous glare._ Harry gave Malfoy his best sneer. “We’re here because of _you,_ Malfoy,” he said. “So I’d appreciate it if you could just let me enjoy the view and bask in my misery.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “There are several leads pointing to Ben Macdui. It would be preposterous to overlook them and you know it.” It was his turn to flash Harry his best deathly glower. “Or do you?”

Harry shrugged and resumed walking, lengthening his stride to catch up with Malfoy without making it look like he had strayed behind.

The view was indeed stunning. However, Malfoy was unfortunately right: it wasn't why they were here. Five years of serving in the Aurors and it was the first case he was assigned with Malfoy. Once in five years; all in all, Harry could consider himself lucky.

It was a high-profile case, too: it had all started when a few nutters had become persuaded that the end of the world was nigh. Not only nigh, but like really, _really_ nigh. Like _the-apocalypse-is-happening-in-a-fortnight_ nigh. They were last spotted on Ben Macdui, a mountain which had been known since ancient times as a magical place, and since more recent, Internet forum discussion times, as a rapture-free space.

Then they'd vanished.

Harry had seen the forums. These lunatics believed the mountain hid a labyrinthine net of corridors and caves, like a giant ant hill for them to take refuge in while the rest of the world burned. It was easy to dismiss them as a bunch of sweet loonies, until they started disappearing. Not just them, but all the other loonies—Muggle and magic folk alike—who had followed them to Ben Macdui. Muggle families reported that their relatives weren’t answering mobile phone calls; wizarding families said their owls returned after failing to reach them.

 _Maybe the rapture happened and took those guys only._ Harry had snorted and shaken his head. He was in the mood for sarcasm—that was, until Head Auror Smith had told him he would be assigned the case of the disappearances with Malfoy.

That had quelled Harry's mood in an instant.

They’d been walking in the snow for what felt like hours, Harry’s nose slowly turning into an icicle and his hands and feet growing numb with cold. There was still no sign of anything remotely suspicious, despite Malfoy’s methodical, fastidious combing of what seemed like every single square inch of this bloody mountain. Once an arse-licker, always an arse-licker, Harry thought pettily. Malfoy couldn’t help kissing up to to the higher-ups even when there was no one but him and Harry around. Arse-kissing was probably embedded in his genes.

Speaking of arses, a sudden gust of wind had just whipped through Malfoy’s burgundy, standard-issue Auror cloak and exposed his shapely posterior for Harry to admire. Malfoy might be an uptight arsehole, but he was also annoyingly fit. A fact that was harder and harder for Harry to ignore each passing day, as he subtly observed Malfoy laughing with their Auror colleagues at the Ministry cafeteria, striding through the Auror department corridors like a young prince perusing his future kingdom, or brushing his hand through his short, stylish, impossibly blond hair when he was absorbed in case reports.

If he was perfectly honest, Harry had been just a tiny bit thrilled when Head Auror Smith had announced their assignment. A chance to stealthily stare at his ex-nemesis-turned-reluctant-Auror-partner’s fit body might not present itself for another five years, so he took it.

His eyes trained on Malfoy’s pretty bum, he didn’t notice Malfoy had stopped, frozen to the spot, until he walked right into him.

“Bugger,” he said, grabbing Malfoy’s arm to steady himself.

To his surprise, Malfoy didn’t push him back or insult him copiously for almost knocking him over.

“Potter,” he said instead, something ominous in the calm of his voice.

“What?” Harry adjusted his glasses.

Malfoy’s face was turned to the north, his white-blond eyebrows knit together. With a sinking feeling, Harry followed his gaze.

Dark, massive clouds were massing to the north, rapidly advancing toward the mountains.

A snowstorm was coming.

Fast.

Harry had no scientific meteorological knowledge, but his instinct rarely lied. And now his instinct was screaming at him to find a place to hide from the upcoming downpour, or face the risk of being turned into a very dead, very Harry-Potter-shaped icicle within minutes.

“We need to move,” Malfoy’s voice was matter-of-fact, very close to him.

“There’s a shelter nearby,” Harry told him. “If we run fast enough…”

Another sudden gust of wind, ice-cold and fierce, whipped their faces. It seemed to slap Malfoy into action. He turned to look at Harry, face serious but for the tiniest smirk slowly lifting the corner of his mouth. “Last one to reach the shelter is a bag of putrescent Flobberworms?”

Despite the gravity of their situation, Harry burst out laughing. He grabbed Malfoy’s hand and pulled.

They started running, Malfoy on Harry’s heels, Harry still holding his hand.

“You know about the shelter? You did do your homework, Potter!” He heard Malfoy’s mocking voice behind him, muffled by the howling wind. “And here I thought you made it through five years in the Aurors by being the Chosen One and looking pretty!”

Harry almost tripped over. _Did he just hear Malfoy call him pretty?_ Ignoring the twisting feeling in his gut that wasn’t only fear and adrenaline, he ran faster, hand in hand with Malfoy.

They took a turn and there it was: the refuge, a log cabin half-hidden among fir trees.

Just in time, too: black clouds had veiled the sunshine from moments ago and it was dark as night. The wind was blowing fiercely now, sending a dust of snowflakes flying around them.

Harry reached the cabin first and flung himself against the door. Malfoy’s body slammed into his a second later with so much force it pinned Harry against the heavy wood.

“Umph,” he groaned. Malfoy’s body covered his like a blanket, and Harry wished he could revel in the sensation just a little longer. Surely Malfoy would notice that Harry _liked_ it, though, so he pushed him back with a kick of his elbow. “Gerroff me, Malfoy!”

With a roll of his eyes—the git was _rolling his eyes_ at him, calm as you please—Malfoy pushed his cloak back and pulled his wand from its holster. He pointed it at the door.

 _“Alohomora!”_ he said authoritatively. Harry felt a shiver of misplaced excitement shoot down his spine, and the door flew open.

They hesitated at the threshold of the cabin, its interior pitch black and unknown, but the storm made the decision for them. There was a gust of wind so violent they swayed on the spot. Snow started falling around them—a _shower_ of snow unlike anything Harry had ever experienced, even in the coldest months of his Hogwarts years. He felt a hand close around his shoulder and Malfoy pushed him inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

It was like going simultaneously blind and deaf. Harry was surrounded by disorienting darkness and silence. Only Malfoy’s breath, slightly raspy, remained, grounding him in their new reality.

“Now what?” he asked, feeling around him blindly. He grabbed something warm and firm, which pulled out of his fingers with a hiss from Malfoy. Harry’s breath caught. “What… did I touch?” he asked. “Was it—”

“My _arm,_ you bloody moron,” Malfoy snapped.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, abashed. “Care to turn on the light? It’s darker than Voldemort’s arsehole in here.”

Darkness or not, Harry could recognise Malfoy’s long-suffering sigh anywhere. “I can’t believe you ever received a letter from Hogwarts, Potter, let alone graduated from the same school as me.” A pause so thick Harry could have cut it with a _Diffindo,_ and then: “Are you a wizard or are you not?”

 _Oh._ “Oh!” Harry said. Pulling out his wand, he hurriedly cast a _Lumos._

The blue light flickered at the tip of Harry’s wand and barely took off, floating just over their heads and emitting the palest, saddest light Harry had ever seen. When his gaze returned to Malfoy, he was wearing the exasperated expression Harry expected to find on these pointy features.

“Oh, _bravo,_ Potter,” Malfoy said, mock-applauding. “A first-year spell and this is how you perform it?”

For once, Harry didn’t feel like rising to Malfoy’s ribbing. He turned around slowly, taking their surroundings in. He felt the tiny hairs along his arms stand on end. The back of his neck pricked.

“There’s something wrong,” he said, voice low.

“Of course there’s something wrong,” Malfoy scoffed behind him. “I could cast a stronger _Lumos_ when I was five.” Harry felt him swish his wand. When he turned to look at him, a second sphere of light was floating above them, just as dim and dismal as Harry’s.

Malfoy held himself very still. He was paler than usual, and it wasn’t the blue light’s fault.

He took Harry’s arm. “We’re getting out of here, Potter,” he said. Harry understood immediately: he was going to Apparate them out. Except… Malfoy screwed his eyes shut, tensed as if about let the Apparition magic flow through him, and then— _nothing._

They didn’t move. They _couldn’t_ move.

Malfoy’s eyes flew open.

“There’s something wrong,” he rasped. His eyes uneasily scanned the small, dark room. He looked… agitated. Worried.

Oddly, it grounded Harry. He felt calmer for Malfoy’s agitation. The storm might be raging outside, but they were safe, here, together. For now.

“Hey, Malfoy,” he said, placing a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “It’s going to be alright.”

Malfoy met his eyes, visibly still unsure, but Harry felt his body relax infinitesimally.

“If the Chosen One says so,” he muttered, and shaking Harry’s hand off him, he stalked to a corner of the room where Harry could make out a simple, carved wooden bench. He plopped himself on it with a sigh and put his head in his hands.

Harry hesitated before joining him on the bench. It was cold in the cabin—definitely not as cold as outside had been, or was certainly now, yet cold enough for Malfoy’s body heat to feel like the most enticing thing in the world, _begging_ for Harry’s hands to come closer and just _feel—_

He carefully put a few extra inches of space between himself and Malfoy.  

“At least we’re safe,” Harry observed after a long stretch of silence during which all Malfoy did was rake trembling fingers through his hair while Harry stared. Even though the small cabin was perfectly weather-proof, they could hear the storm shaking the branches of the trees outside, howling at their door. Spadefuls of snow were already blocking the slits of the shutters, the little hope they had for natural light diminishing by the minute.

Malfoy gave Harry a disbelieving glance and scoffed. “Thank Merlin, Potter. It appears we’re not going to die in a snowstorm. Perhaps we’ll die in a log cabin filled with Dark magic instead. Just brilliant.”

“One problem at a time, Malfoy,” Harry said. Funny that he was the reasonable one for once.

 _“One problem at a time,”_ Malfoy mimicked Harry in a high-pitched falsetto voice. “Please don’t tell me this is how you’ve made all your life decisions so far.”

“Okay, first of all, I sound _nothing_ like that,” Harry said, fighting down a chuckle. There was something in Malfoy’s accusations… something almost _endearing._ Haughty, unflappable, _perfect_ Malfoy was human after all. “And secondly, yes, actually, that’s how I survived until the ripe old age of 25. By taking one problem at a time.”

Malfoy stared at him for a second, the weak light of their _Lumos_ reflected on his pale irises and his pointy, patrician features. Then... he smiled. Reluctantly, barely meeting Harry’s eyes, and with a light blush blooming on his cheekbones—but he _smiled._

Something in Harry wanted to cheer.

“If idiocy doesn’t kill, maybe there’s a chance we’ll come out of here alive,” Malfoy muttered, turning away. Still smiling. “That is, if we don’t kill each other first.”

Harry laughed. “A risk we have to take into account, for sure.”

Malfoy was grinning in earnest now, eyes flicking to Harry, as if uncertain whether he should meet his eyes or firmly look away. Merlin, how long had it been since he’d looked at Malfoy from this close? He’d forgotten—he’d forgotten how _long_ his lashes were, how much darker than the rest of his hair. How his eyes burned like embers despite their paleness, their unique shade of silver and ice. How smooth his skin looked, how Harry itched to run his knuckles along the sharp line of his jaw—

“Are you plotting my murder now?” Malfoy’s mocking drawl snapped him out of his—whatever what had just happened was.

Harry shook his head. “What?”

"Stop staring at me, Potter."

With one last irritated glance at Harry, Malfoy slid a few inches down the bench, head resting on the wall behind them, exposing his long, pale throat.

Harry swallowed dryly.

“Fuck,” Malfoy murmured. “We really _are_ going to die here. Who knows how long the storm will last? And then when it stops… we’re stuck, aren’t we? The door’s shut, there are several tons of snow blocking it by now, and we can’t Apparate out.” He looked at Harry from the corner of his eye. “I’m going to die next to Harry Potter. Like I should have, seven years ago, if it wasn’t for you.” He laughed mirthlessly. “After all this time, karma is finally catching up.”

Harry wanted to reach out and touch him. He squeezed his hands in his lap instead. “Malfoy…” he started.

“Let’s say we’re dying here,” Malfoy interrupted as if Harry hadn’t spoken at all. His grey eyes were glinting in the dark. Harry watched him as he spoke, the movement of his lips, of his throat. “Let’s say we’re dying here because we went chasing after a bunch of lunatics who thought it was the end of the world. As much as I hate to admit it, there’s some kind of humorous irony here, don’t you think?” He turned his face to Harry. His soft smile from a minute ago had turned into his usual smirk. “What would _you_ do if you knew these were your last hours on earth?”

“Mmh,” Harry said. For all the many, many times he had almost died—and the one time he actually had—he’d never thought of asking himself this question. Actually, nobody had ever thought of asking him this question. Most people walked on eggshells around him. _Don’t upset the Saviour of the Wizarding World,_ he could read in their apologetic glances. _Don’t stir up all the old trauma he probably still carries around._ They were all so bloody curious, but it never was about who Harry was, was it? Too bad, though, because this was an interesting question to ask.

Then again, Malfoy wasn’t most people. He just said what he wanted to say and consequences be damned. Whether the one he was talking to was a barely-tamed Hippogriff or the Great Harry Potter, to Draco Malfoy, it was all the same.

Harry relaxed a little, mirroring Malfoy’s languid pose at the other side of the bench.

“I would buy myself a cone at Fortescue’s,” he said after thinking about it. “The extra large one, remember those? The ones coated with chocolate? With three scoops of cookies-and-cream and two of treacle tart ice cream. And melted chocolate on top.” He smiled at the thought. “You?”

Malfoy laughed. A genuine, _brilliant_ laugh. It was so unexpected that for a second it was like sitting next to an entirely different person. Malfoy never laughed with Harry. He sniggered, or gave that mocking little snort that had been the background soundtrack of every one of Harry’s Potions classes at Hogwarts. He didn’t _laugh._

There was no denying that he was laughing now, and Harry’s insides warmed at the sound.

“Potter, you uncouth heathen. It’s your last hour on earth and you choose to fill it with an unhealthy amount of fat and sugar. How unexpected.”

“Oh, haha, who cares about that, Malfoy, if we're going to die? Besides, I would rather _fill it_ with something else, but I doubt the other party would be willing,” Harry blurted, then froze. Had he really just said this? Fighting the heat rapidly spreading from the back of his neck to his face, he kept his eyes in front of him. Maybe Malfoy didn’t hear—

“Sorry, what?” he heard Malfoy quietly say next to him.

 _Bugger._ “Nothing.”

“Oh, no, no, no. None of this, Potter. I heard you. We’re going to die. Now spill it out. Is there someone? Who would you like to fill your—ah, _last hour on earth?”_

Harry could hear Malfoy’s lewd smirk in his question. He threw a surreptitious glance at him. He found him staring at him, grey eyes focused on their goal.

He cursed his lack of brain-to-mouth filter. He was going to have to go through with this.

“Yeah,” he admitted, defeated. “It’s stupid, though. Not just a little stupid. Embarrassingly stupid.”

“Isn’t ‘embarrassingly stupid’ your middle name?”

“Sod off, Malfoy.”

“Alright, alright!” Malfoy laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I won’t make fun of you, I promise. I won’t tell anybody. Deathbed confession and all that.”

“Okay,” Harry conceded. He was surely a bright shade of crimson by now, anyway. “It’s... _you,_ Malfoy. I kind of have… this ridiculous fantasy about you. You’re fit and—I like—” Merlin, he was struggling to get the words out. “I like to imagine how you could… feel like. If we ever… you know.” He shrugged with a dismissive laugh. “I told you it was stupid.”

There was silence, and then: “Oh. _Harry.”_

Harry turned at the sound of his name.

Malfoy was staring at him with a look unlike anything he’d ever seen on his face. Eyes wide, mouth slack and throat working, Malfoy’s usual eloquence had evaporated only to leave, in its place—something that looked like _hunger._

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. He’d expected Malfoy to jeer at him, not to stay frozen in shock.

“I am more than okay,” Malfoy said, his voice suddenly quiet, raspy. It sounded like the distant rumble of an earthquake, and Harry felt himself shiver in spite of himself. “I can’t _believe it._ I can’t believe that _you want me.”_

Flustered, Harry squirmed on his seat. “Well. _Hypothetically._ If we really only had an hour left to live.” He lifted what he hoped was a nonchalant shoulder. “Why not, you know?”

“Merlin’s holy bollocks,” Malfoy said, and finally his mouth twisted up in a smile. “You think I’m fit. You’d like me to shag you. Oh, sweet Salazar. This is definitely worth being around for the end of the world.”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Harry snorted. “But you still haven’t told me what _you_ would do for your last hour on earth.”

“Oh, I think the answer is tailor-made for this moment, Potter,” Malfoy murmured. “Without hesitation, I would do _you.”_

Harry’s head snapped up. Malfoy’s eyes were fixed on him, intent and hungry. He licked his lips, exposing a row of glinting white teeth, and Harry’s brain short-circuited.

He leaned in and kissed Malfoy.

With an enthusiastic groan, Malfoy kissed him back, his hands rising to cup Harry’s face, sliding into his hair, pulling possessively. Harry moaned into his mouth, chasing the warmth of it with his tongue, finding Malfoy’s tongue and touching it tentatively first, then in a slow, languid caress that made Malfoy melt against him. Hands roaming Malfoy’s back, Harry pulled him close, diving into the kiss, blood pounding in his ears. They  slid to the floor without realising it. When Malfoy groaned into his mouth and pressed his body closer—fuck, Harry could feel the hard edge of his erection through their Auror robes—they toppled to the ground, Malfoy on top of him, pressed between his legs.

“Fuck,” he heard Malfoy whisper when they broke for air. He was immediately back at it, kissing Harry with a desperation unlike Harry had ever experienced with any other lover, hands everywhere, in his hair, on his neck, his arms, his back, pushing his hips into Harry’s, rutting into him. Harry broke the kiss with a cry and Malfoy latched on his neck instead, sucking and lapping at his pulse point. His hand slid down Harry’s side, searching under his Auror robes for the button of his trousers. “Fuck,” he said again, “fuck, Potter, I want you, I want you so damn much—”

“Yes,” Harry hissed, letting go of Malfoy’s hair and guiding his hand to the bulge of his aching erection. Malfoy’s hand cupped him through his trousers and he heard his breath catch against his neck. Carefully, they both breathed again.

“Merlin, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice was trembling slightly. “You sure kept _this_ a secret.” His fingers slowly traced the ridge of his cock through his trousers. “You’re fucking hung,” he added, sounding a bit awed.

“Shut up,” Harry laughed, a little embarrassed and pleased with Malfoy’s reaction. “And hurry. It’s the end of the world, alright? Just—take your clothes off, and make it good.”

He felt Malfoy lift his body off his and heard the muffled yet frantic rustle of clothing being removed. Then Malfoy’s hands were on him again, pulling at his uniform, helping him out of his cloak, his robes, his shirt. In the pale light of the _Lumos_ still hanging over them, Malfoy touched his fingers to Harry’s naked chest, his brow furrowed. There was an odd expression on his face—as if the sight of Harry naked had rendered him speechless, making everything more… real.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, prodding him out of his quiet reverence.

“You should know… this isn’t just an opportunistic fuck,” Malfoy said quietly, as if there was a chance Harry wouldn’t hear him. “Not for me, at least.”

“It isn’t one for me, either,” Harry said, just as softly.

Malfoy raised his eyes to meet his. His expression shifted with a lopsided little smile. “You’ve been on my celebrity to-do list for a long time, Potter,” he said. His eyes sparkled with humour and mischief, and when he saw Harry’s exasperated eye-roll, he laughed.

Harry’s chest ached at the sound. It was novel and thrilling, knowing he was the one who made Malfoy laugh like that.

“Come here,” he said, pulling Malfoy back down and on top of him. The contact of skin against naked skin stole his breath away. He squirmed under Malfoy’s hips. “Help me out of these, will you?”

“You’re not the boss of me, Potter,” Malfoy grumbled, until Harry’s hands found his arse and squeezed. “Who am I kidding,” he yelped. “Yes you are.” Laughing, Harry obliged by lifting his hips off the ground when Malfoy pulled his trousers and pants down in one motion.

They lay there, almost all their skin exposed. In the near-darkness, Harry could only hear their breathing, loud and fast. He could see the way Malfoy was looking down at him, an almost wistful expression on his face.

He sat between Harry’s legs and let his gaze roam up and down his body, Harry’s hard, aching cock already leaking copiously across his stomach.

“Fuck me,” Malfoy let an admiring breath out.

“I was hoping it would be the other way around,” Harry said. “Either way, you’ll have to get rid of these boxers,” he added, eyes fixed on the impressive tenting of Malfoy’s pants. _Burgundy_ pants, matching the rest of his Auror uniform. _What a fucking ponce,_ Harry thought fondly.

And then he didn’t think of anything else, because Malfoy stood and pulled his boxers down. His cock, pale and pink and just as big as Harry’s for all he could judge in the semi-darkness, stood proud and fully erect, a long, beautiful vein throbbing on the side.

Harry swallowed.

“Get back down here and fuck me,” he croaked. “Right now.”

Malfoy let out a little laugh and knelt between Harry’s spread legs. “Such a bossy Gryffindor,” he murmured with a wicked smile. He slid his fingers into Harry’s crease. His smile broadened when he heard Harry’s breath catch. “Don’t worry, Potter. I’m not one to leave last wishes _unfulfilled.”_ The way he said the word made Harry groan, his cock twitching needily against his belly. “Mmh, yes,” Malfoy said quietly. “You really want this, don’t you?” He sat back on his knees so that Harry could see his face. With a smirk that looked too confident for Harry’s good, he brought his middle finger to his mouth and sucked it in with a moan, slowly, _obscenely._ He pulled it out with an soft _pop,_ then he licked it again, once, his eyes on Harry’s face, his long, pink tongue on display.

It was the hottest thing Harry had ever seen.

Until Malfoy dropped his hand to Harry’s arse and touched his finger, warm and wet, to his twitching hole.

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut. _“Fuck,_ Malfoy,” he breathed, feeling Malfoy’s finger circle his rim, then breach his hole with one knuckle. “Oh, fuck, you impossible prat, you just _know_ you’re going to be good, don’t you?”

“I’m going to be so good, Potter. _Harry,”_ he heard Malfoy above him. He sounded breathless. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” The hand on Harry’s side withdrew, and Harry felt Malfoy pat the floor around them. _His wand,_ he thought. _Hope whatever magic he’s about to do works in this magic-muffling environment._ Draco cast a spell on his right hand, the one with one finger currently engaged in fucking Harry’s hole. The sparks of magic skittered against Harry’s rim, and he felt Draco’s finger slick with conjured lube on the next movement upward. The sensation made him moan and writhe wantonly.

“More,” he asked, hoping he was still far from begging. Malfoy seemed like a relatively considerate lover, but he’d not like to give him cause to gloat if he could avoid it.

Malfoy obliged, sliding a second finger in on the next pump. He lowered himself on top of Harry, the breathtaking sensation of his warm skin on his, of his cock slotting against Harry’s. There was only his hand moving between them, slowly opening up his hole, preparing him for his cock.

“Yes,” Harry moaned when he felt the tip of a third finger press into him, almost mindless with need. “Almost ready, Merlin I want you, I don’t think I can wait much longer—”

“Yes, Harry, yes,” Malfoy was mumbling against the side of his neck, “I can feel you, oh, you’re going to feel so tight around my cock, I—”

 _“Do it,”_ Harry said, fingers digging into the planes of Malfoy’s back, legs wrapping around his waist. “Fuck me, Draco,” he said again, Malfoy’s first name escaping from his lips in the daze of his lust.

In a normal situation, he would have expected Malfoy to point his finger in his face and say something along the lines of _Don’t boss me around, Potter, we’re at the same rank._ But being naked together with Malfoy’s fingers up his arse and Malfoy’s hard prick sliding against his own was decidedly _not_ a normal situation. Malfoy complied without even lifting an eyebrow.

Withdrawing his fingers, he settled over Harry, slicked his cock with lube with three pumps of his fist and lined it with Harry’s waiting hole. Before he pushed in, he looked up at Harry with a small smile.

“We’re really doing this,” he said, somewhere between a statement and a question. “The world must really have come to an end.”

Harry laughed and nodded once.

“Yeah, we are. But if you don’t do it soon, I might strangle you on the spot, Malfoy, hard-on or no hard-on.”

With a breathless laugh, Malfoy took his cock in his hand and pushed the fat head of it inside Harry’s arse.

“Oh, _Jesus fuck—”_ Harry threw his head back, clawing at Malfoy’s back. Malfoy’s thick cock was slowly sliding inside, breaching Harry with shallow little thrusts that barely left time for him to adjust to the girth of it— _fuck,_ Malfoy was _big,_ and it’d been a long time since Harry had done this—and finally, finally, when Harry thought he never would, Malfoy bottomed out inside him.

“Okay?” he asked, his breath shallow and hot against Harry’s skin. His face was pink and shiny with perspiration and there was a swathe of blond hair falling in his eye. Harry had never seen him look so debauched.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded a bit frantically and pulled him down for a kiss. Malfoy kissed him fervently, his tongue soft and insistent on Harry’s. Pulling out slightly, he slammed his cock back inside Harry again. And again, and again. Kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths, they writhed together on Harry’s Auror cloak, spread under their bodies already slick with sweat. They both found a rhythm, Malfoy fucking Harry’s arse in long, deep thrusts, Harry lifting his legs over Malfoy’s shoulders, one hand wrapped around his own aching cock, wanking himself along with Malfoy’s pounding.

“Fuck, Harry, I knew it, I knew you’d be such a good little bottom,” Malfoy was groaning against his shoulder, his fat cock pushing in and out of him, bringing him closer to his climax with each thrust. “Fuck,” he was saying, “your wet little hole is so tight I could come in seconds, are you close, Harry, I can tell that you’re close—”

Hand flying over his cock, Harry pressed his heels onto Malfoy’s shoulders, pushing him back a little. “I am, just—come on, Malfoy” he taunted, “come on, fuck me harder, I know you have it in you, you stupid hot—”

Malfoy pulled out with a filthy wet sound, his long, thick cock pink and gleaming in the darkness. Sitting on his knees, he grabbed Harry by the hips and pulled, leveled him up with his pelvis. Harry squirmed, frustrated, as Malfoy studied his arsehole, which he imagined fluttering, swollen and glistening with lube. By the hungry, focused look on Malfoy’s face, he was certainly right. Because Malfoy lined up his cock again and slid slowly, impossibly, _maddeningly_ slowly inside.

At Harry’s relieved moan, he let out a low chuckle.

“Better?”

“Right on my prostate,” Harry confirmed through gritted teeth, having only avoided an early climax by squeezing the base of his cock almost painfully tight.

“I’m going to make you come,” Malfoy announced, breathless and delighted, “fuck yes, you’re going to come and squeeze my cock so tight, Potter.”

“And then I want you to stay inside when you come, Malfoy,” Harry mumbled in a blur, wanking himself furiously, his balls drawing up, his orgasm imminent, “You’re going to pound that fat cock of yours in me and you’re going to fill me with your hot spunk—”

Spurred on by his words, Malfoy dug his fingers into Harry’s hips deep enough to bruise, and Harry felt the first wave of his climax hit him as his cock throbbed in his fist and started to pulse hot ribbons of come on his chest and stomach. “Oh fuck, Harry,” Malfoy grunted and slammed into him faster, deeper, “Oh fuck, I’m coming in you, can you feel it, can you feel me—”

“Yes,” Harry moaned. “You feel amazing, Malfoy, so hard, so hot—” His own orgasm was only starting to ebb when he felt Malfoy’s cock grow impossibly harder and then freeze deep inside him, before it pulsed, hot and slick, turning his hole filthy and wet on the last few pumps inside him.

Malfoy let go of his hips and lay on top of him, riding out the last shivers of his orgasm, his cock softening inside Harry’s arse, each last hopeful thrust pushing rivulets of spunk out of his hole and onto his arsecheeks.

“Can’t. Breathe,” Harry laughed and lightly pushed Malfoy, who lifted his head from where it rested on Harry’s shoulder and pulled out of him, coming to lie next to Harry with his head propped up on his hand.

They looked at each other in the darkness. Their _Lumos_ had faded when neither of them was paying attention. Malfoy looked deliciously disheveled, his hair sticking out in every direction, his lips swollen and pink. Harry lifted his hand and traced Malfoy’s bottom lip with his thumb.

“Merlin,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to find out how your lips feel around my prick.”

Malfoy laughed. “Really? I fucked you into the ground barely a minute ago and you’re already asking for a do-over?”

Harry gave him a teasing smile. “I thought we’d agreed to fuck until the world ended. It pretty much looks like the world’s still here. Or… are you forfeiting already?” He brought his face closer to Malfoy’s. “Scared?”

He had time to catch a glimpse of Malfoy’s feral smile before he leaned in and kissed him. “You wish, Potter.”

 

****

 

“Mmh, stop it. I don’t think I have a drop of spunk left in me,” Malfoy pushed Harry’s hand away. Harry could hear the grin in his voice. “You wrung me out, Potter.”

“What a wuss,” Harry nosed at his ear. “Fine. What is your plan, then? It’s morning outside. The storm has passed.”

Indeed, it had. They were lying on the floor of the cabin, Harry’s Auror cloak long gone, discarded in one corner of the room or the other. Harry couldn’t remember, despite the protestations of his scratched elbows and knees—a reminder of the last time they’d fucked before sunrise, Malfoy holding him by the hips and pounding him roughly from behind, the both of them moaning as though it was the first time they’d ever fucked and not the fourth already. A soft ray of sunshine was filtering through a crack in the shutters that wasn’t completely filled with snow.

Last night, they had both fulfilled an old fantasy, and the world hadn’t ended. And now that morning was here… what would become of that one night of passion?

Harry turned on his side, away from Malfoy. What if it was all they would have, then? It was only fair. Harry had only confessed his feelings to Malfoy because… well, because it was a weird situation, wasn’t it? He’d never expected to be confined in close, dark quarters with Malfoy. Malfoy, whose fit little arse he’d stared at for the five hours leading to… this _trap,_ yes sir, it was a trap, that’s what it was. Even when he’d told Malfoy about that little fantasy of his, he hadn’t expected Malfoy to, er, _get on board_ so enthusiastically.

All of which probably meant nothing now, in the light of day.

His sullen train of thought was interrupted by Malfoy snaking his arm around him, followed by his warm body pressed against his back.

“Oh _no,_ the storm has passed. Whatever shall we do now, Potter?” He pressed a kiss on Harry’s shoulder. The hair at the back of Harry’s neck stood to attention and he instinctively pushed his arse against Malfoy’s groin. The answer was a light bite of Malfoy’s teeth and a twitch of Malfoy’s cock against the small of his back. “Mmh, you’re insatiable,” Malfoy murmured in his ear. His hand slid from Harry’s side down to his soft prick, which plumped immediately in his palm.

“Malfoy,” Harry bit his lip to stifle a moan. “Either we fuck again or you drop the teasing. There’s no in-between.”

“My prick is about to fall off from the vigorous treatment you submitted it to, Potter,” he heard Malfoy say behind him, “but maybe I can give it a try.”

Instead of pumping Harry’s cock erect, he went around Harry’s arse and felt between his cheeks with two fingers. He found his hole on the first try and pushed inside without so much as a warning.

“Hey— _oooohhhh fuck,”_ Harry moaned, instinctively canting his hips to give Malfoy better access.

“You didn’t even clean up after the last time,” Malfoy murmured behind him, his voice trembling with lust. “Mmh,” he added with an appreciative hum, his fingers already pumping inside Harry, “you feel so wet, so filthy. So full of my spunk. I could fuck you all day and you wouldn’t get enough, would you?”

Harry felt his face heat, half in embarrassment and half in reluctant desire. Over the night, they’d fucked so many times, they’d acted so uninhibited, he had lost track of what had been said and done. In the soft daylight bathing the cabin, Malfoy’s filthy words and their unabashed hunger for each other felt surreal.

Malfoy’s fingers still felt amazing inside his slightly sore hole, and Harry didn’t overthink it. Hoping to give Malfoy better access, to allow his fingers in deeper, he rolled on his stomach—and froze.

There was something cold and metallic under him.

“Malfoy—wait,” he said, pushing up. Malfoy’s fingers slipped out of his arse and they both heaved a disappointed sigh. Harry shook himself into action. “There’s something here… Look.”

Half-lying on the floor, they looked at the place on the floor where Harry was pointing at.

The metallic bump Harry had felt was a handle attached to a trapdoor.

They glanced at each other for a second, and then—

“We have to check it out,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Malfoy nodded. “We do.”

They both stood hurriedly, their eyes trained on the trapdoor as if it could disappear if they so much as blinked.

Harry realised it as soon as he stood: there was an downside to being in a standing position that he hadn’t thought of. He brought a hand to his arse and squeezed his legs shut when copious amounts of come dripped out of him and along his thighs. Face heating, he saw Malfoy’s eyes follow the slow trickle of spunk down his legs. There was an almost imperceptible smirk on his lips, and Harry watched as Malfoy’s cock gave a hopeful lurch.

“Yes, yes, we did fuck a lot, Malfoy,” Harry rolled his eyes to mask his embarrassment—and the utterly unprofessional fact that, deep down, he’d rather spend another 24 hours stuck here with Malfoy than resume their investigation. “Yes, you ran to the bathroom and cleaned up right after _I_ fucked _you,_ and I didn’t. What can I say, I’m a slut for your massive cock. Let’s get dressed, shall we?”

“I didn’t say a word,” Malfoy said, lifting his hands. His smirk was saying otherwise. Still, he stopped staring and started looking around for his clothes, passing Harry bits of his uniform whenever he found them on the floor. Cheeks flaming, Harry took the opportunity to clean himself up while Malfoy had his back turned.

When they were fully dressed, albeit in clothes that wouldn’t pass the high standards of Auror uniforms for cleanliness if they were to be inspected, they approached the trapdoor again. Harry moved to pull the handle.

Before he could touch it, Draco stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“You realise this could only be the door to the storage room,” he said. His voice was lower than usual. He sounded like he was trying to avoid waking a sleeping Hungarian Horntail.

Harry met his pale grey gaze. His eyes were worried, so different from mere hours ago when they had glinted dark with passion.

“Malfoy. You know just as well as I do that it’s not. You said it yourself when we entered this cabin: there’s something wrong with it. The anti-Apparition wards. The magic-muffling spells.” He gave him a significant look. “This isn’t a normal mountain refuge.”

Malfoy looked down at the trapdoor. His lips were pressed in a thin line.

“If they’re hiding in there and we find them… the case is over. We’ve solved it.”

“Isn’t it what we’re being paid for? Solving cases?” Harry half-smiled. There was something about Malfoy’s hesitancy that asked for gentleness.

Malfoy let out a soft snort of laughter. “You’re right.” His eyes flicked to Harry’s, almost shy. “I was just being… sentimental.”

 _Oh._ Harry took a step back. Sentimental was good… wasn’t it?

“Okay,” he said. “What are we going to do about it?”

Malfoy lifted his eyes to his. _“We?_ Are _we_ supposed to be doing anything?” He shook his head. “It’s fine, Potter. It’s not as though I would have expected coffee and a date after last night. Let’s get back to work.”

“Well…” Harry started. He resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. “If you wanted… We could, you know. I wouldn’t be opposed, _per se…”_

Draco laughed. The git _laughed. “Per se?_ Oh, Merlin, Potter. You want this too, don’t you?”

Harry felt himself blush. “I thought all the sex we had last night made it pretty clear.” He glanced at Malfoy. “You?”

“Fuck yes,” Malfoy breathed, his cheeks colouring. A slow, genuine smile spread on his lips. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

“We will. We’ll get that coffee,” Harry confirmed, grinning like an idiot. “Tell you what—it’ll be our reward if we solve this case.”

Malfoy’s eyes glimmered with humour. “I had no idea you had a thing for delayed gratification, Potter. Seems a bit out-of-character for you.”

“Trust me, it’s taking all my willpower not to throw you down on the floor again and forget all about pesky things like cases and Auror careers.” Malfoy’s grey eyes darkened, and Harry laughed. “Better not test my patience for too long.” He gestured towards the trapdoor. “Open it?”

“Fine, but only because I really want the promotion I asked Head Auror Smith about,” Malfoy heaved a theatrical sigh. He bent to pull on the handle.

The trapdoor lifted with an eerie creek. When they leaned over to look inside, all they could see was darkness so thick it was almost dizzying. Harry pulled his wand and aimed at it.

_“Lumos!”_

A ball of light, blue and blindingly bright, burst from the tip and fell in the dark. It reverberated on worn, humid stone stairs before disappearing long seconds later.

This went way deeper than a storage room would.

Harry lifted his eyes to look at Malfoy. His expression was so open, his bright grin so sincere, it reminded Harry of everything he loved about his job. Of everything they both loved about their jobs.

Everything they had in common.

He nodded towards the trapdoor, and Malfoy gripped his wand in his fist, his face shining with excitement.

“Alright, Potter. Let’s go find some post-apocalyptic nerds, shall we?”

 

****

 

Head Auror Smith closed the file and rested her hand on the red cardboard cover. The air was heavy with finality. Harry squirmed in his chair. Next to him, he could feel waves of restlessness emanating from Malfoy. Malfoy’s hand was clenched around his knee to stop his leg from jiggling.

“What I was saying, gentlemen,” Smith was droning on, “is that the families are grateful for your work on this case. There will be a ceremony to celebrate the safe return of magic and Muggle fugitives alike. Of course, the ones who wish to remain in the caves of Ben MacDui will be able to do so, as long as they reside there in safer conditions than they previously did. Authorities will know to check in on them regularly and make sure they have provisions and water, at the very least. And all concealing magic that exists around the various entrances to the mountain, such as the one you’ve discovered in the refuge, will be cleared by our best team of Curse-Breakers.”

She lifted an eyebrow. Her thoughts on such childish behaviour were plainly written on the disapproving frown on her face.

In that moment, her resemblance with McGonagall was so uncanny Harry had to fight down a smile. A quick glance at Malfoy confirmed that the same thought had crossed his partner’s mind. They both lifted their hands to their mouths in an attempt to stifle a laugh.

Smith seemed to mistake their schoolboy collusion with yawns. She stood.

“Gentlemen, I apologise for keeping you overtime when you’re obviously in need of a rest. I’d like to give you the next three days off as a thank you—and as an opportunity for you to catch up on much needed sleep.”

From the corner of his eye, Harry caught the way Malfoy’s ears pinked at Smith’s unwitting implication.

Just a few more minutes and they were free. The rush of anticipation made Harry stand taller.

“Thank you, Head Auror,” he said. Smith shook Harry’s hand, two firm professional pumps. “Frankly, it’s been an honour to work and solve this case with Auror Malfoy.” He turned to Malfoy, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “And thank _you,_ Auror Malfoy,” he added, giving him his hand to shake, “for all your _hard work._ I couldn’t have _come—”_ he coughed, “—to this conclusion without your _unrelenting_ dedication to the task.”

Malfoy wrapped his long fingers around his. His smirk was barely hiding the fact that he was blushing, and Harry wondered how obvious they looked. Harry’s hair was more of a mess than ever, and Malfoy’s chin and throat were pink from stubble burn.

“Well thank you, Auror Potter. Your single-mindedness and—ah, _stamina,_ were _impressive_ assets to have on this case.”

They stayed facing each other, hand in hand, cheeks pink, stupid grins on their faces, until Smith cleared her throat.

She was assessing them with narrowed eyes.

“Thank you, gentlemen, you can go. Unless there was anything else you wanted to share…?”

“No, I think that was all,” Harry said hastily, smoothing the front of his uniform as he moved to leave. Thank Merlin for ample Auror robes. Just staring at Malfoy’s eyes, dark with promise, was enough to make him painfully hard. He couldn’t let Head Auror Smith notice he was hot for his Auror partner—well, not so soon, anyway.

He wouldn’t last long. There was something about Malfoy that made him want to bend him over the nearest desk, Head Auror be damned.

“Thank you, Head Auror,” Malfoy bowed his head slightly, the very picture of respectful deference, if not for the tiniest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Harry grabbed his arm and all but threw him out of Head Auror Smith’s office. Malfoy’s delighted chuckle was more damning evidence of their illicit off-piste antics than Harry’s burgeoning erection was.

Once they were outside, Malfoy lengthened his stride to match Harry’s quick walk towards the exit. He gave his arm a light pull.

“In a hurry, Potter?” he asked. Harry didn’t need to see his face to picture the gloating expression of it. It was all in his tone.

Harry used to hate when Malfoy used this tone.

Now he was understanding it for what it was: taunting, playful, and just a tiny bit desperate for Harry’s attention.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, facing Malfoy whose expression turned from smug to curious.

“I thought it was clear. Head Auror Smith gave us the day off. Several days off, actually.”

“And…?”

“And I intend to spend them shagging you on every available surface of my flat.”

Malfoy’s cheekbones turned pink. His throat worked.

Harry licked his lips.

“You’ve never minced your words, Potter,” Malfoy smiled eventually, slow and intent. “To think I used to hate that about you.”

“I used to hate a lot of things about you, too.”

“Used to?”

“Yes.”

Malfoy stood very still, shocked into speechlessness by Harry’s blunt candor. _Get used to it,_ Harry thought. There was no other way to explain the faint tremor in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach.

They would both have to get used to it.

And Harry couldn’t wait to get started.

He extended his arm, bent at the elbow. The questioning lift of his eyebrow was all the incentive Malfoy needed; he linked his arm to his.

Malfoy’s grin widened.

“Coffee?”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are lovely!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lettersbyelise)!


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